


Anything Less Than Remarkable

by anextrapart



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 22:14:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5718985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anextrapart/pseuds/anextrapart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's finally over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anything Less Than Remarkable

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little wish-fulfillment I wanted to squeeze in before the show inevitably disappoints me.

Newly-exonerated and still jumpy on adrenaline, Liz enters the safe-house expecting it to be a hive of activity, associates winding down from the mission that just cleared her name and scored a huge hit against the cabal.

Instead, it's only Red.

He looks… she doesn't even know what that look is, but there's a staggering amount of relief in his face and voice when he chokes out, " _Elizabeth_."

She's hurrying across the room before she realizes it's happening and she slams into him, hard enough to propel him back a few uncharacteristically clumsy steps as his arms fly up to encircle her. He holds her so tightly she's actually lifted up off the ground for a second.

Liz closes her eyes and presses her face into his shoulder. She inhales a deep breath and as she slowly releases it something finally, _finally_ settles within her.

It's over.

She allows some of the tension to drain from her body and clutches a handful of shirt collar at the nape of his neck, smiling when she feels his hands start to drift gently up and down her back.

She's okay, he's okay, and it's all over.

"Thank you."

She laughs, decides against pulling away and instead asks into his neck, "Why are you the one thanking me?"

"For West Virginia. Haven't seen you since."

"Oh." It's not like she was just going to leave him to be killed in a trailer in the woods. "That was nothing."

"It was dangerous and incredibly stupid," he informs her, his tone good-natured despite the slight scold she knows is in there.

"Hey, so was this whole operation of yours!" Still unwilling to let him go just yet, she kicks his leg playfully for emphasis in lieu of glaring at him.

"Mine was actually a _plan_ , whereas yours was a headfirst plunge into the unknown."

They are essentially bickering over who has more of a right to risk their life for the other, which is pointless since she's certain neither of them is going to stop. Liz knows that he'll do anything to protect her. It was only recently that she discovered the lengths she'll go to to protect him.

She doesn't know exactly what he is to her, but she does know that he's become… essential. She's Liz, and he's Red, and they function better as a unit. That's enough for the time being.

She tightens her arms around him in a final squeezing hug before stepping out of the embrace. "Mine absolutely was a plan, thank you very much, and it worked out just fine."

Red quirks an eyebrow. "You were arrested, sweetheart."

She waves a hand. "Eh. Details."

He laughs and, reaching out and threading his fingers through her hair behind her ear, he moves a half-step forward and drops a fierce kiss to her forehead.

It's the most blatantly affectionate he's ever been with her—still daylight and everything, no traumatized need for comfort in sight—and she's a little taken aback by how _nice_ it is.

That said, she thinks his body must have done it without his brain's permission because he looks a little terrified when he steps away—not in a way that most people would classify as terrified, but she can read the twitch of his eye and the tightness in his shoulders.

She considers having some fun and making him sweat a little but figures she more than owes him one at this point and opts to let him off the hook.

"So, what happens now?"

He hitches a shoulder in a shrug. "Whatever you want. Your life is yours again."

She thinks for a moment, tosses around a few ideas, but there's really only one thing she wants right now.

"Dinner?"

Red's brow furrows. "What?"

"Dinner. I'm hungry and you're always hungry—let's go get something to eat."

"I thought you would want to figure out more of a long term-"

"Screw that."

He does that huffing laugh thing that he does, and she thinks that she's convinced him until an unfamiliar expression darts across his face.

"I- You're sure?"

"Yes." She narrows her eyes at him. "Stop being weird."

He chuckles, normal again with a hand at her back as he leads her out the door. "I'll do my best."

They meet Dembe by the car and slide into the back while he gets into the driver's seat.

Liz glances over at Red when Dembe requests a destination. "What do you feel like eating?"

"You choose."

She considers for a moment before deciding what exactly it is she's craving. "Thai sound okay?"

"Of course. Anywhere specific in mind?"

"You pick. I don't have a usual place and you always know better ones anyway." He really does—it's very annoying.

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"

Here we go. "I will not."

"Because it _sounded_ like you said I know better."

Sighing long-sufferingly and resolutely hiding her smile, she says, "Fine- in this one very specific and limited instance, I will admit that you usually have some insight that I may not yet possess."

"Dembe, mark the date! Lizzie has finally acknowledged my all-encompassing brilliance."

"No, see, that doesn't sound at all like what I said."

"Ah, but it's what I chose to hear, and so that is how history shall remember it."

"You're an idiot."

He laughs, sudden and warm, and she tries to remember when the sound became so precious to her.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

They get their dinner from some little hole-in-the-wall Thai place Red knows, opting to each order something that can be consumed from a single takeout container so they can walk and eat at the same time.

Dembe drops them off at a nearby park and then recedes into the night in that way he sometimes does. Liz feels a little guilty for being glad—it's not that she doesn't enjoy Dembe's company, she just wants Red to herself for a bit longer.

They walk side by side, conversing lightly. It's a little awkward to eat while walking in the dark, despite the lamplit paths and the fact that she'd chosen a fork for ease of use—Red seems to be faring just fine with chopsticks, the smug bastard—but she's glad she convinced him to have their meal like this.

She likes when they're casual, when he's not trying to impress her and she's not trying to outwit him and they can just talk while she steals bites of his dinner, while he huffs and retaliates by stealing some of hers.

Red basks in her attention like he's starving for it, like he's savoring every single second allowed to him, and she can't quite shake the feeling that he's viewing this evening in her company as a reward for good behavior. That he saved her from prison and so she's sucking it up for a few hours and indulging him.

She's so uncomfortable with that, with the idea that he feels every tiny scrap of her affection must be hard-won. It shouldn't be that way.

He's earned her trust . Sure, he's still an evasive pain in the ass and probably always will be, but she no longer doubts his interest in her well-being or the motivation behind his desire to be part of her life.

She doesn't have a damn clue _why_ , but he genuinely just seems to like being around her.

If she could just get to the bottom of it, figure out that one piece, maybe she could straighten out a few other things between them, too.

She waits until they're both done eating, containers tossed in a nearby trashcan, to try and broach the subject.

"Raymond-"

The corner of his mouth twitches up, though he's clearly trying to hide it.

She rolls her eyes and pushes his shoulder roughly.

"Stop that."

"I didn't do anything," he protests.

"You're laughing at me."

He lets the smile break through. "Only a little."

"Was it really that strange?" Maybe it was a bad choice to use his name for the first time—she was trying to indicate that she wants to have a serious talk.

"I'm still deciding." His head tilts to the side while he considers. "It was certainly unexpected."

He starts rambling about perceived boundaries and changing relationships and professional versus personal and she honestly isn't listening to a single damn word of it.

See, Red likes to redirect. She'll say something, he'll get uncomfortable, and then he'll start talking and _keep_ talking until she not only barely remembers what they were discussing in the first place but, frankly, doesn't even care anymore because he _just won't shut up._

"-and so while I don't find it unwelcome, one should consider the- Lizzie? Lizzie, are you even listening to me?"

"Nope," she informs him cheerfully. "Not at all. You talk _way_ too much."

"I-"

Seeing only one available solution at this point and ignoring every screaming, flashing warning sign in her head, she grabs a fistful of his lapel and tugs him forward into a kiss.

She's kind of trying to make a point—genuinely hoping to effectively shut him up for once—but she discovers mid-action how much she simply just _wants_ to kiss him.

He drives her crazy, has from the start, and somewhere along the line that just turned into her being crazy about him.

And Red- _hell_ , but the second her lips touch his he makes this muted, completely unreasonable, _devastating_ sound that's a little bit gasp and a little bit whimper.

She brings the hand not holding his lapel up to cradle his face, bumps herself up on her toes and can sense his hands hovering in the air above her waist, deliberately not-touching.

It would probably be a fairly unremarkable kiss by most standards, simple press of her lips to his and a little misaligned at that, except that it's fucking _perfect_ because she's Liz, and he's Red, and when have they _ever_ been anything less than remarkable? 

She pulls away slowly, can't resist a brief second brush of her lips to his as she opens her eyes.

The look on his face is terribly sweet, a picture of slack-jawed astonishment that she really wouldn't mind putting there more often.

She rubs her thumb across his cheekbone. "I think I'm going to call you Raymond sometimes from now on, okay?"

He nods but his eyes stay wide, the kind of stunned, bordering-on-panicked look that he only gets when something has truly caught him off-guard.

"You kissed me."

"Sure did," she says, not even trying to hide how much she's enjoying having flung him off kilter.

He glances down and seems to be turning something over in his head, the closest to squirming she's ever seen him. She lets him think in peace, absently wonders what he would do if she pushed him up against a tree and kissed him again.

When he lifts his head and catches her gaze again, it's with a hopeful little half-smile that she's pretty sure he would smother if he could.

"Are you going to do that from now on, too?"

"Probably. Yeah," she says, and watches as the line of his shoulders settles in something like relief.

He grins.

"Good," he says simply.

He starts to lean in but stops short, pulling himself back again.

"Can I?"

(He's the only guy that's ever asked for permission to kiss her.)

She sighs as though put-upon.

"Well, I guess fair's fair," she tells him, with a little half-smile she would smother if she could, "but while I don't find it unwelcome, one should consider-"

"Lizzie."

"Yeah?"

Red smirks, finally lets his hands settle on her waist, and tugs her toward him until they're occupying the same space again.

"You talk too much."


End file.
